


even if we aren't....

by witchboywriting



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: Fluff, Friends With Benefits, M/M, maybe? - Freeform, more than anything, skinny love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2020-03-02 16:45:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18814945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchboywriting/pseuds/witchboywriting
Summary: How could you bring yourself to stop him? ThiswasDamien LaVey asking - no, not asking -demandingyour attention, after all. And, if a boy as independent and strong-willed as Damien demanded your attention, he didn’t just want it, hecravedit.He didn’t just ask for it.He got it.





	1. coming to your aid

**Author's Note:**

> enjoyed this work? want more? requests can be made [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> want to see updates on my stories? see how things are going? give opinions on what I should write next? hear my rants? follow me [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask) on tumblr, love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoyed this work? want more? requests can be made [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask)

Damien was tall, in every sense of the word.  
His long slender form was perfect for wrapping yourself around and falling into the comfort of endless sheets and fabrics and pillows...that is, when he was not being his usual deviant self, setting everything ablaze and tearing everything down to ruins.

Damien had a hard outer shell.  
It was rough and violent. It was bad-mouthed and quick to anger, but it was just a shell and, at the end of the day, Damien would grow tired of carrying the weight of it. He would lug it off his shoulders like a heavy bag and he would throw himself at you, hoping you would soothe some of the remaining pain and anger.

It was an agreement you had come to long ago to help comfort both your angered souls: you would be one anothers comfort and safe space, you would care for one another, you would guide one another… which lead you back to Damiens slender form, which had been lying atop your own for far too long now.

You could handle Damien for a good long while.  
He was quite similar to you. You shared a connection, a common problem and goal. You both were quick to anger and pain, you both simply wanted to be loved in a way you had not received in a long time. However, as of recent, Damien had taking your common problems and goals and turned them into something else entirely. He had taken what was simply a time to rest in the company of one another and turned it into physical contact you had not expected or discussed at any time.

You had not expected Damien to do it. There had been no signs or warnings that he would, but one day he threw himself at you, sending you both flying into your mattress and he never let go. He never passed it off as a joke or a fight. He simply clung to you like you were his lifeline and he did not let go or loosen his grip until he was sound asleep on your chest.

“Bastard.” You mumbled under your breath.  
You were hardly mad at Damien. If anything you were mad at yourself. Someone like you letting Damien LaVey take advantage, letting him cling to you. You should have expected this, you thought...you should have known it was coming.

Yet, as upset as you were, you never tried to throw Damien off of you. You never pushed him away or tried to wake him. You simply let him lie there, watching his chest moving rise and lower as he took in breaths of air, watching the clock tick on as time passed.

At the end of the day (especially on a day like today) you could not deny the truth: this was what you had truly agreed to when you told Damien you could be his rock, his comfort, his anchor. You had no right to be angered, because you had agreed to comfort him, to _love_ him. You had agreed to this....At least, you thought so, until Damien’s hands began to grow curious, until they began to rome your back and his legs began to tangle with your own, brushing up and down your pant leg, searching for skin to feel warm and comforted against.

“Alright, time to get up, Damien.”  
At first your voice was gentle (stern, but gentle nonetheless). The boy was asleep, afterall. It was likely he had yet to realize what he was going or how it was affecting you. However, Damien did not stop when you asked. He continued working his hands along your chest, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. Damien was like a kitten, slowly growing more and more affectionate and comfortable...too comfortable, and now you could feel your face going red with anger (or maybe it wasn’t anger, but a hint of blushing on your face).

A growl resonated from your chest, “Damien. Get. Up.”  
Before you were asking something of Damien, but now you were demanding it. No longer did you want him on you. No longer did you want to feel the aching in your chest or the sweating of your palms. You wanted him gone. Yet, Damien did not listen.

It was not long before you were shaking the boy, but he still remained asleep. The only sign of consciousness was the slight sound of snoring in the air and the whimper that came from his throat when your fist met with his shoulder.

Now Damien had really done it. He had gone and pissed you off. He had driven you to an anger that he was supposed to be helping you manage, and, just when you were ready to send your fists flying at him again, he smiled.

Damien LaVey - a tall mass of burning red anger - smiled.  
His lips curled up and his tail wagged and you could hear a purr coming from his throat. He must have been having one hell of a dream as he laid comfortably upon _your_ chest, in _your_ room, on _your_ bed…

Suddenly you realized how intimate all of this was and all the anger built up inside of you melted (though your face still felt warm and carried shades of red, for reasons you could not _possibly_ understand)

“Wake up you spoiled brat.”  
This time your voice was at no more than a whisper as your lips were pressed to Damien’s ear. This time you were gentle with him, and, this time, Damien woke up.

He sat up quickly, started at the sound of your voice and the feeling of your lips along the curve of his ear. A loud yawn escaped the boy's lips as he stretched out the last of his sleepiness and opened his eyes, landing them on you. Damien had never felt guilty before. Yet, when he saw red painted on your checks and your arms crossed over your chest, when he found himself straddling your form with his thighs pressing onto your hips and his arms leaning on your legs, Damien realized he had done _something_...something he likely shouldn’t have. After all, you were _angry_ , and Damien knew that he was supposed to be taking your anger away, not giving you another reason to feel it.

“What did I do?” He asked, his voice surprisingly gentle until you glared at the boy, looking away from him without so much as an answer, “What??” He growled.

“Pssh, nothing we hadn’t agreed on, I suppose.”  
Somehow your answer to his question confused him more than it aided him. Yet, as you pulled his form back down into the sheets, pushing him down and laying yourself upon him, mumbling a quick “my turn” as you snuggled into his chest, everything suddenly became so clear to Damien.

You had aided him and now it was his turn to aid you, just as you both had promised.


	2. angel in a devils form

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised to find yourself dedicating yourself to him, defending him till your last dying breath. You would even build him up and stroke his ego if he liked. You had nothing against it...not if it was Damien… _not if it was him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoyed this work? want more? requests can be made [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask)

Damien had seemingly never done anything wrong in his life.  
At least, not to you.

He could set the entire world on fire (and practically had) and you would still see him as a perfect angel. A mischievous angel, but an angel nonetheless. However, you would never call him that aloud. You thought you had seen Damien angry, but if you called him an angel? That was when you would see what real anger looked like. You were certain of it.

However, he was every bit angelic to you, even bordering on ‘holy’.  
So much so that you wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised to find yourself dedicating yourself to him, defending him till your last dying breath. You would even build him up and stroke his ego if he liked. You had nothing against it...not if it was Damien… _not if it was him._

There was a part of you that never saw that facet of yourself changing. You would always take care of him in some way or another. But, in other parts of your mind - the more burdened and distant parts, the parts that saw him on a physical level (the devil) rather than an emotional level (an angel) - you had no idea why you stood by his side. In those depths of your mind you were certain he was using you.

There was no way he felt the same as you did or even close to it. There was no way he felt as deeply for you as you had for him. That would be impossible. It _was_ Damien LaVey, after all. You were not sure he cared for anyone.

But somehow you had seen those darker parts of your mind as a facade - they were nothing more than a dark fog obscuring your path. They would never stop you from caring for him, and this was all thanks to the gift Damien had given you - a gift you thought did not exist beyond your hopes and dreams until he had opened up like a flower and shown you.  
Damien had shown you the kindness behind his eyes, the angel you knew was within him.

You had seen him place a gentle hand on the small of your back and ask if you were alright.  
You had seen him seek you out when you were alone or nervous and talk with you until the feeling passed and faded into a happiness you did not expect to find at all, let alone within Damien, but you did. He always made certain you would.

And, of course, despite all he had been to you, there was always a chance he was buttering you up to use later, tricking you, conspiring against you, but you could not help but push those negative thoughts aside when he was beside you, no matter how unhealthy it was. The memories and gentle touches he had given you kept you around and helped comfort your mind when you felt lost, and you were sure you did the same for Damien in one way or another.

_You were certain of it._


	3. fire and fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part of him that did what he wished and took what he liked and asked no man, women, child, or monster for permission or opinions or advice was special to you. Many had told you to run from it, to never cross it, but that would imply that Damien was dangerous and fear-striking, and you had never seen him that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoyed this work? want more? requests can be made [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask)

Damien LaVey did not give a shit about anything.

At first, you thought Damien was simply forgetful. He would never bring his lunch or his homework or anything he seemingly needed with him. However, it was not long before you discovered that was not due to a lacking memory. Rather, it was simply because Damien did not care.

“Why would I need to bring my lunch when yours is right here?”  
“Why would I need to do my homework when yours is here for the taking, newb?”

You would always scrunch up your face in disgust as he spoke, but you had never tried to stop him from grabbing at anything and everything he could get his hands on, or anything and everything he wanted.

After all, Damien’s attitude had and always would amount to just that.  
“Why should I care? I am Damien LaVey: Prince of Hell. Who’s gonna stop me?”  
You hardly expected that attitude to change, though you would be lying if you said you had hated it.

The part of him that did what he wished and took what he liked and asked no man, women, child, or monster for permission or opinions or advice was special to you. Many had told you to run from it, to never cross it, but that would imply that Damien was dangerous and fear-striking, and you had never seen him that way.

Damien _had_ certainly startled you more than once. With his big booming voice and the fire he manipulates at will he was like a firework. Unexpected? Yes, but never scary. Especially when this firework would stop the moment realized he had been just a bit too loud and a bit too bright and a bit too close for you. Despite how he would try and hide it, there was always a secret glimmer of caring behind his eyes. Not danger or threat or harm...just caring.

Many had thought it to be a joke.  
“Caring? You must be joking! Damien could never.  
Damien _would never_.”

It was not long before you realized that Damien was not a firework, but a detonator, choosing when to explode and when to hold back, and, it seemed, he had only taken his finger off the trigger when it came to you...and Damien hated it.

Damien had never been cautious, but he was with you.  
He would watch his words and his action. His “if I have something to say nothing and no one will stop me from saying it” attitude had melted away the moment he met you. His anger melted away, too. Damien was slow with you - he was careful. Always thinking before he took action, and double checking before he spoke.

“Ask him about it.” Brian would always tell him, “You act like you are scared of him, Damien. He won’t hurt you.”

If it were about anyone else Damien would have exploded with frustration and pride. For someone to accuse Damien LaVey, _the_ prince of hell, of fearing another was synonymous of asking for death. However, Damien would never deny such accusations when it came to you.

Damien had never been scared, but he was with you.  
No, Damien was not scared _of_ you. He did not find you startling or deadly. He did not have nightmares about you or find himself stepping around you with care and caution, though you were more than powerful enough to scare anyone you wished, to put up one hell of a fight if you choose to. Yet, he was not scared _of_ you.

If he was found cowering around you it was only because he wanted to be seen as gentle.  
If he was found remaining silent and still it was only because he did not want to miss a word you had to say.  
If he found himself hesitating and proceeding with caution it was only because he could not (under any circumstances) risk saying something that you would dislike, something that would make you never wish to speak with him again. (Damien had found he was rather good at scaring people away by doing just that, after all)

So, maybe Damien LaVey did give a shit about something.  
And maybe that _something_ just happened to be you.


	4. even if we aren't...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You had wanted to tease him, wanted to make him confess, but there was something - some look - in Damien’s eyes that let you know a confession would harm him more than help him then. He needed reassurance more than anything else.  
> He needed your affections more than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoyed this work? want more? requests can be made [here](https://witchboy-writing.tumblr.com/ask)

It had become ritual,  
Any night you and Damien both had nothing going after school (which was most every night, seeing as how you both had the tendency to cling to each other exclusively these days) you would laze around your bedroom. The gathering was meant to be a tutoring session after Damien had repeatedly failed to complete any of his classwork. (You had, once again, been asked to help pick up Damien’s slack) However, Damien quickly shifted the intent of those nights.

Yes, you would always _begin_ the nights pulling homework from your bags, spreading the crumbled up sheets of paper out along your desk with the intent of studying, but Damien much preferred studying you. So, the hours that were meant to be dedicated to studying quickly turned to hours of attempting to shove Damien off your back as he clung to you like a shy child.

It wasn’t that you disliked Damiens affections. You had grown used to them, as they had been going on for quite some time now (neither you nor Damien could pinpoint the exact time your relationship shifted into something beyond that of friendship, but just below that of a partnership. It seemed it had come so naturally that neither of you even noticed it until you were wrapped in eachothers arms with no intent of letting go). However, it was the fact that Damien had never once discussed such affections with you that caused you to feel a great need to tease him, to force him to admit to his wantings.

“You know, Dams, you have never asked me.”

You turned your head, but you didn’t have to turn far seeing as how Damien had been resting along your back and shoulders - his cheek nuzzled against your flesh, his lips pressed against the nape of your neck. Damien’s expression had been soft and gentle, but quickly shifted to something confused as he processed what you had said.

“Asked you what?” He groaned, knowing what you were doing and hating when you would do it - when you would toy with him in that special way that Damien would only allow you to do.

“You have never asked me to be affectionate with you. You have never asked to be affectionate with me. _You’ve never asked, Damien_.”

Damien’s faced scrunched up, looking almost disgusted by what you had said, but you knew it was a facade. He was not disgusted by you or your touch, but merely the fact that he would now be forced to either admit to loving each or never be allowed them again. The thought alone brought a blush to the boy's cheeks (one you would hardly notice due to the color of his skin, but you knew it was there nonetheless).

“I’m not affectionate with you.” He mumbled, so quiet it might as well of been a whisper, “I’m not.” He turned his head sharply away from you as he crossed his arms over his chest like a child, “Why would I- I don’t even want- I don’t even like-” Damien tried to finish each sentence, but they were each a lie. Damien had never had trouble lying before. As a matter of fact, he revealed in it, yet he felt a foreign feeling of guilt when he tried to lie to you.

You had wanted to tease him, wanted to make him confess, but there was something - some look - in Damien’s eyes that let you know a confession would harm him more than help him then. He needed reassurance more than anything else.  
He needed your affections more than ever.

You released yourself from Damien’s grasp, (only for a moment) rotating soest how you and Damien were still tangled in one another’s arms, but were looking eye to eye. You wanted to be closer to him - you needed to be closer to him, “All you have to do is ask, ya know?”

“You are alright with that? Even though we aren’t...ya know-”  
 _dating...together...in love..._ the words hung off his lips, but he didn’t say them. He did not want to hurt you. He did not want to embarrass himself, so he was silent, awaiting your reply.

“Yeah, Damien. It is alright. Just ask.”

Damien was not going to ask. You knew that all too well.  
Damien cared for you. Damien wanted to hold you and touch you and be with you, but he was far too prideful to ask for such things. Yet, you knew he had said ‘yes’.

“So, I can do _this_ , right?”  
You reached out as you spoke, grabbing ahold of his face and gently kissing each of small freckles etched into his cheeks, only to abruptly pull your hands away when you noticed his face was growing warm - extremely warm.

“Hey!” you shouted, pulling away from him and the slow, but blazing, calefaction of his face,  
“What the _hell_ was that? Are you trying to burn me?”

You shook your hand in the air, hoping the breeze you created would keep it cool and calm the burning sensation on your skin. You reached out to touch your lip, inspecting it for a burn or any sign of blood as Damien spoke,  
“Sorry. I just- I didn't expect that, okay?”

From the way Damien had spoke you expected a sense of nervousness or embarrassment upon his face. Yet, when you looked up you only noticed a smirk growing, “But, hey, maybe you could do that again because that-" he said, pointing down at your lips, grabbing ahold of you and pulling you closer, looking at you with eyes shining,  
 _"that was fucking metal.”_


End file.
